Raging Death
by molliepup1
Summary: Mello was like a storm, everything was crazy and chaotic when he was around, but boring when he wasn't. Matt thinks about the night that Mello came back to him for help. Oneshot.


Mello was like a storm- it was chaotic and crazy with him, but boring and monotonous without him. Matt thinks about the night that Mello came back to him for help. No pairing, oneshot.

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"-the fuck, Matt? How are you so goddamn good?"

Matt brushed the question off with a flick of his hand, while his other hand stuffed a wad of fresh one-hundred dollar bills into his coat pocket. The sounds of video games and Dance Dance Revolution faded as Matt made his way down the dark Los Angeles street, away from the arcade.

The wind bit sharply at his face as Matt breathed in a lungful of cold air. He exhaled, then scrunched his nose in disgust. City air was so disgusting, so full of pollution. Matt reached into his pocket once again, fumbling for a cigarette and lighter. Finding both of the items in question, Matt precariously lit a cigarette, careful that the lighter's flame would not be extinguished by the winds. He dragged deeply on the cigarette. Now _that _was much better.

Matt strolled down Fifth Street as he did every night, walking from the arcade to his shabby one-room apartment ten blocks down the street. He sighed, blowing a ring of smoke into a dimly-lit street lamp. It was the same shit every night. Matt woke up around five in the afternoon, grabbed some dinner, then headed over to the arcade to participate in and gamble on various video gaming tournaments. It was one time when Matt's knack for video games came in handy. Just by winning a tournament (and all the bets he placed on himself, against newcomers) Matt was able to earn enough money to support himself. It bought rent, electricity, and enough shitty Chinese takeout for the week.

Life was too goddamn easy, Matt thought, crossing Pineapple Avenue. He recognized the group of potheads that often hung out on the corner, smoking weed. Matt also noticed about a dozen undercover policemen stationed at various positions around and across the street. Matt smirked. He smoked the occasional joint or two, but was never stupid enough to do it somewhere where he could be easily caught by the police.

One of the potheads had long blonde hair and was clad completely in black. Matt stiffened, reminded of Mello. The man's cocky attitude and casual behavior caused a sharp jolt of pain in Matt's abdomen. He missed Mello, of course. Mello was the only friend Matt had ever had. However, Matt had deduced that Mello was like a ferocious hurricane. He caused chaos when he was around (perhaps a bit too much excitement) yet everything was monotonous and dull when he was gone. It was difficult for Matt to decide which he hated more. Back at Wammy's House, Mello was always planning some elaborate scheme for the two to do when the only thing Matt wanted to do was to play on his Gameboy. Now that Mello was gone and Matt was no longer required to go to school, or anything, Matt did nothing but sit around and play video games, which was boring as Hell. At this point, Matt supposed he would be thankful for any intervention into his shitty life. Of course, Matt was too lazy to take that initiative himself, so for now, it was nothing but Dungeons and Dragons and cold chow mein.

Matt paused as he approached the doorstep of his apartment. There was a shadowed figure lying on the stairwell. Matt could not see the figure's face, as it was hidden beneath the black apparel that the figure was covered in. The half-eaten bar of Hershey's lying on the step, however, gave the figure's identity away.

"Mello?" Matt asked incredulously, gaping in disbelief.

"M-Matt?" coughed Mello weakly.

"Yeah, it's me," said Matt, leaning over Mello. He caught sight of the burn wounds that covered Mello's face. "What the- Mello, are you alright?"

"Yeah," answered Mello weakly. He strained to get up, but failed, and collapsed back into the step. "Actually, no," he said. "I need your help."

"Yeah," said Matt, carefully picking Mello up and flopping him over his shoulder. Matt grunted slightly under Mello's weight, but adjusted quickly. He unlocked the apartment door, tread through the threshold, and plopped Mello onto the squishy brown cough that dominated the interior of the room.

Mello sat up slightly. "I need you to help me find Kira," he stated, brushing away a small cough. "I think I know who Kira is- I have an idea at least, but Near, that basta-" The rest of Mello's words were lost in a loud fit of coughing. Matt laid Mello's head back on the pillow as Mello fell unconscious, then rose to get himself a can of beer.

Mello was definitely a hurricaine, thought Matt, walking towards the fridge. A storm that had lay dormant in the middle of the ocean for three years, but was now gaining speed and traveling towards land, towards Matt. Matt seriously doubted the storm and all the chaos it brought would die until it had taken both of them down.

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A/N- Okay, so I know it's horrible and incredibly overused, but I simply had to write something about when Mello came back to Matt. That, and I really wanted to write about Matt's shitty life. Reviews and concrit are much appreciated. 


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